The Hopeful Emo Kid

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self-doubt and anxiety: a writer’s burden.

May 12, 2017 by Briana Herr Leave a Comment

so, to go along with my last blog, and this weird ‘let’s talk about feelings and stuff.’ Thing I got going on. -for real don’t know where this is coming from. –

I thought that today we would talk about something that most people writers and non-writers a like feel at one point or another in their lives…or to be more realistic, all. Of. the. time. Self-doubt and anxiety.

These makes you feel alone, it makes you doubt not only what you can do but yourself as a person.

If this has happened to you, I hope that if you take anything out of this blog is that you are not alone. On that note I hope you enjoy.

 

Every writer has voices in their head. It’s how we’re able to write, It’s how we make the magic happen. however sometimes the voices tell you things, these kinds of voices whispers into your ear until they over take your thoughts and soon it’s the only voice in your head.

it speaks louder. Until it’s screaming at you. Things like ‘this sucks.’

‘no one is going to want to read this.’

Soon it even turns on you. ‘who would want to read what you wrote?’

‘this is worthless, you’re worthless.’

This goes on. until you are unable to see yourself in any other light. you start to feel like maybe, this is true.

It builds in your head, a deafening ringing that causes chaos in the deep workings of your mind, making your head feel two sizes smaller but your brain ten times bigger.

A building pressure that spreads to your throat making it hard to breath. Taking a deep breathe seems so out of the realm possibly. something that was once so easy, something that people around you do like it’s nothing, is something that you begin to struggle with. you struggle with basic human needs.

Soon the choking feeling turns into ropes that knot your stomach. Even without the choking feeling, the ropes and knots make it impossible to eat. And standing only makes it worst. The only thing it seems help is curl up into a small ball, to reflect how you feel.

The pressure pulls down onto your shoulders, weighting down on you, like if you were on the bottom of the sea. The weight wears on your body. Your knees, hips, shoulders, every nook and cranny. It pushes you down and makes you feel ten inches shorter.

When you’re busy with school, work, hobbies, family time or whatever. The voices are still, under the busyness of work, it’s the farthest from your mind as you study for that big exam. It’s quiet and calm as the smiles and laughter of friends and family drown it out.

But the moment you stop, the moment you try to sit and pour your blood, sweat and tears onto paper. The voices scream and ring at you as you try to break a piece of your soul to share with the world.

And the worst part is that because of those voices you are unable to talk about the dark sea that you are swimming through. You watch as the world around you. The people that you know and love look like they are floating on clouds, while you have rocks tried to your feet.

Soon, you start to avoid everything that is causing you to stress and panic, and writing has fallen over to the way side.

Before you wouldn’t think about going even an hour without writing. But under the lock of this paralyzing force, you go hours, days. Hell, maybe even weeks without picking up a pen. Or tapping words out.

But that doesn’t stop the voices, it only helps quiets them for a moment. But it doesn’t last long.

At night you are left with only the voices. You toss and turn, unable to sleep but you don’t have the energy to do anything but lay there.

So, there are you, lying in bed as the events of the day plays back in your mind. All the things you would have said or done differently,

It plays all the things you may or may not have fucked up. Things that shouldn’t matter, suddenly feel like 1000 bricks on your back. grinding you down to nothing.

Nothing seems to help, you no longer have a voice in your head, only these new ones are there. that break you down. Nothing seems to be able to stop it. you fester on everything with no hope of ending the feelings or sleeping.

you don’t know when it started but you soon go on auto pilot, going through the day feeling nothing at all but the black cloud over you.

Fake smiles and laughs are getting you through your day time life. night time is spent in solitude, with no motivation other than staring at the wall. Eating is throw at of the window, and you can’t even think about writing.

This takes days, months. Years maybe it’s something that’s been with for most of your live.

The scary thing is You don’t see yourself get to this point. one day you’re fine and then the next you’re fighting with yourself to get out of bed.

Writers live in a world of feelings and what ifs but in this kind of state, your trapped in a purgatory of feeling too much and not enough at the same time. A contend war raging inside of your chest. and you drown in the things that could happen and things that would never happen in a billion years.

It’s hard to break away from this, it’s something that will follow you for the rest of your life, you go through spells where you can break away from the dark. Getting to a point where you can write and live without worrying. With the sun shining against your skin, a sensation you aren’t used to feeling, like you’re normal for once.

But then, after a while, the storm clouds come back. Looming over you, bringing the darkness with it.

How do you fight it? How does one break away from the clouds and get to the sun when the world is so dark? Well, that’s different for everyone. Different reasons to walk through the dark to get to the sun. but something that helps? Writing. Bearing everything to the world.

Something that was part of the problem, being part of what saves you? Crazy talk I know.

but writing is a part of you, it’s in your DNA, it’s build inside every cell of your being. At some point it made you happy, even if it isn’t at the moment.

Writing, hell, anything that you like that might bring you happiness. All of those things are like a flashlight when the sun goes down. Sometimes the batteries are low and flicker. But other times they shine bright, splitting the darkness in two.

Doing the things you love. Being with the people you love. These are somethings to help, but if you really can’t pull out of the dark then it’s best to talk to a doctor. Or reach out to someone.

Because no one should spend their days, feeling the way that you do when you’re trapped in self-doubt, depression and anxiety. And you are so much better than the way these things make you feel.

Well there you have it lovable kiddos. That’s enough feeling sharing for one day.

Until next time!

Filed Under: my life Tagged With: self-doubt, self-help, this is me, writer life

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Hiya!

Hi, I’m Briana! I’m a coffee addicted night owl who likes dark, depressing books and upbeat music. I also happen to be an author. Want to read about my life in lists? Click Read More…

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